


Sweet Home

by Violetwilson



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, God Bless America - Freeform, M/M, THERE'S ONLY ONE BEDDDDD what will they DOOOOOO, bed sharing, everyone's drunk and everyone's having fun, god bless waffle house
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 14:15:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17061299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violetwilson/pseuds/Violetwilson
Summary: Honestly, she only came to Waffle House at two AM to pick up Finn and Poe and maybe order some pancakes.Maybe.But what was she supposed to do when she found a hot businessman with a broken car in the parking lot?Notinvite him to sleep over at her place until the town's only mechanic sobered up?Or: Twelve hours at the greatest Waffle House in the United States





	Sweet Home

**Author's Note:**

> [Suggested listening ;)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n-puRZ6j95s&ab_channel=LynyrdSkynyrd-Topic)

Rey pulls her truck up into the weathered parking lot, the late summer heat drenching through her thin tank top. She’d driven here with the windows down, but even at night with the wind in her hair, she’s _hot._ Alabama nights, even in the summer, are always a little muggy, and tonight is definitely no exception.

In short, it's the exact sort of night where Rey _would_ end up driving across town to pick up her drunk best friends from the beacon of drunk-person hope that is Waffle House at two AM.

Killing the radio and jumping down from the cab, Rey glances up at the golden, friendly face of Waffle House, which is filled to bursting with drunk college students from the nearby university.

Rey takes a minute to soak it all in. Waffle House, Alabama, right off the train tracks and glowing like a hazy, drunk sun in the darkness. It looks like someone took a vintage diner and colored it clumsily in with a yellow highlighter and cheap linoleum, but for some reason it just _works._

Rey walks forward, trying not to yawn, and glances around the parking lot for Finn’s car. Her foster brother might be an idiot drunk off his ass on cheap tequila shots, but at least he’d had the good sense not to drive home drunk. And Rey, fresh off a night shift at the nearby university library, is happy enough to pick him up if it means a bite of his sausage and waffle.

Halfway to the door, she hears a car door slam _loudly_ and stops as the sound of a harsh, male voice raised in frustration approaches from the other side of the cracked lot.

“Could you get someone out here a little sooner?” comes the voice. She can hear him trying hard not to sound harsh.

Rey, a born snoop, pauses just outside the glow of the streetlight throwing yellow light into the lot. In the darkness, she gets a glimpse of the stranger’s face. He’s handsome, but different. It’s a face that’s not from around here. Kind of classic, she thinks, painted by an artist who used a broad brush. Rey watches him, leaned up against his car in a white button down rolled up at the sleeves and frowning thunderously his expensive car, which is black and shiny and German. He’s got the hood up.

“I understand that, but I’ve already missed my flight- I don’t want to stay overnight in this swamp-”

He runs his hands through his hair, exposing a muscled forearm and gleams pale in the light. They’re not hardworking farmboy muscles, they’re built-in-a-state-of-the-art-gym muscles. Though, if she’s honest with herself, muscles are muscles, and his are… appealing.

“No, I understand,” he sighs, leaning back heavily on his car. “Thank you anyway. I’ll call in the morning.”

Then he hangs up and just sits there, scowling at nothing.

Logically, Rey knows she has a few options here.

Offer to help him with his ridiculous, overengineered car, even knowing that whatever tiny, meticulously engineered part is broken will have to be ordered directly from the OEM. Or, she could walk by and do nothing. Or, she could jump his bones right here in the parking lot like some kind of night succubus sociopath.

Deciding all three of those are _terrible_ ideas, she clears her throat loud enough to make his head snap up.

“Jesus,” he says, “How long have you been standing there. You scared the hell out of me.”

Rey steps into the light, trying to look less… stalkerish.

“A while,” she admits. “Enough to hear you’re having car problems.”

The man looks at her. _Really_ looks at her, and Rey finds herself lifting her chin just slightly under the weight of his stare. He has a full mouth and wide cheek bones. Freckles dotting his cheek. Dark hair, just slightly longer than the fashion. The gaze softens, and once he lets his haunches down, she realizes that he’s got kind of a soft, gentle mouth. 

“Yeah, car problems,” he says, sighing. “The only tow in this town is apparently out.”

Rey brings her fist up to her mouth and stifles a grin.

“Ah, I know where he is.”

The man’s eyebrows lift. “You do?”

“Yeah,” Rey says. “He’s drunk off his ass in that Waffle House.”

She can almost hear his brain working as he tries to parse out whether or not she’s being serious.

“You’re kidding me.”

“Nope. I’m his DD, so it looks like we’re both here looking for the same guy.”

The man groans, standing up from where he’d been leaning. Rey blinks as the full extent of this guy registers in her brain.

 _Potentially dangerous,_ says the ancient part of her brain, registering his size and height. _Delicious,_ says her prefrontal cortex, assessing his muscles and height and the very faint smell of him that she can make out. The newer, stupider part of her brain wins out, and Rey takes a few cautious steps forward.

“That an M3?” Rey ventures, pointing to his car to force herself to stop eye fucking him.

“Yeah, few years old, but not too bad,” he says. If he’s going for demure, he fails utterly. Even Rey can hear the note of restrained pride in his voice as he gestures at the sleek, broken beast in front of them.

“Well, she’s beautiful,” Rey says. “Though pretty useless in mud country.”

“As I have discovered,” says the man, scowling mutinously at the ground. “I pulled off to make a call and then the damn thing won’t start up again.”

“Well, welcome to Alabama,” Rey says, trying to sound friendly. “I’m Rey.”

He stares at her proffered hand for a second, like the gesture means nothing to him, and then his manners reboot and he extends his hand and says, “I’m Ben.”

His hands are smooth and strong, muscled and sleek like the rest of him, and when her hand is swallowed in his, she feels a faint thrill of electricity, like someone has filled her chest with staticky, sparkling fabric.

Ben, tall and mysterious, smiles at her and lets her keep her warm fingers in his cold ones for a second longer than necessary.

“So,” she says, clearing her throat. “What are you gonna do?”

“Go find your friend and wait for him to sober up,” Ben says darkly. “I’ve got no place to stay and there’s nothing for miles.”

“Can I take a look at it?” Rey hears herself say, wondering if she’s gone _mad._

He blinks. “You a mechanic?”

“Amateur,” Rey admits, shrugging like this is something she does all the time. “I dabble.”

“You dabble in German sports cars?”

“Yes,” Rey says flatly.

Ben gives her a once over, like there should be evidence of her expertise on her body, but he must only see what she sees: cut offs and a sweaty tank top. Ben’s eyes make it up to her tits before he glances sharply at the sky, as if seeking divine guidance. Classy.

“Have at it,” he says hoarsely, and it takes Rey a second to realize that he means she can look at hi car.

A little pleased with herself, she walks around to the front of the car and peers into the dark recesses of his engine with what she hopes is an expert looking assessment. Leaning forward, Rey reaches for the back to unscrew the coolant cap, checking to see if he’s low. She has to reach, and she _knows_ her legs are on full display and it’s a stupid idea to expose quite this amount of thigh to a total stranger. Let alone a stranger who buys a sports car he can’t take care of.

But he’s _cute_ and she’d seen him check her out, and what’s the harm, really?

Behind her, she hears Ben take a few steps, and she straightens back up and turns around, catching the tail end of his gaze slipping up her legs.

“Well,” Rey says, gesturing at the steaming hunk of metal behind her. “I can confirm that this sure is an engine.”

Ben barks out a sudden, booming laugh, and she wonders that a noise that joyful could come from a man so large. It looks like he hasn’t laughed in a while, and the sound has just burst out of him.

“You’re not a mechanic at all, are you?” he says.  
Rey grins at him. “I’m electrical engineering student at UAB. No idea about cars, really, but I was kind of hoping I might be able to figure it out.”

“Southern hospitality?” Ben says.

“No sir,” she says. “Just a concerned citizen rescuing a businessman in distress.”

Ben blows out a long breath, his expression amused.

“I look distressed?”

Rey taps the side of his car, eyeing his once-pristine shirt, the expensive cut of his suit jacket, the frown lines around his mouth. His mobile, full mouth. The straight edge of his jaw.

“Frankly, you look like you haven’t had fun in ten years.”

“You might be right about that.”

Ben rubs his neck, the tail end of his laugh lingering in his voice.

A silence falls between them, heavy and humid in the heat. Distantly, cicadas start a chirping, chattering chorus in the background, and the only other sounds are the occasional cars passing by and the sound of muffled voices from inside the gleaming yellow box of Waffle House.

“You ever actually been to one?” Rey says, pointing at the Waffle House.

Ben glances at the restaurant. “A Waffle House? Nope.”

“Well, then this should be fun.”

Rey reaches up and releases the hood catch, letting the heavy metal hood slam down onto the car with a thud.

Ben watches her as she strides past him.

“You know,” Rey says, “It’s not really a swamp.”

Ben catches up to her easily, seeming to accept her authority without question.

“What?”

“On the phone. You said it was a swamp. It’s not, it’s a subtropical forest biome.”

“You’re joking,” he says flatly.

“No sir,” Rey says cheerfully as the warm glow of the House lengthens their shadows behind them. “Subtropical, not swampy.”

Rey likes amusing him, she decides. Likes the way his lips quirk and his eyes sparkle, even if the rest of him seems to radiate a kind of coiled, tense energy.

“Anything else I need to know?” Ben says, his lips twitching.

Pausing at the door, her hand on the smooth metal handle, Rey considers how to explain it to him.

All she can think of is, “Well, the people are, uh, friendly.”

And then, with a rush of sound, she pulls the door open. A _wall_ of noise hits them.

Voices raised in cheers, shouts, songs, as a sea of drunk college students lose their collective shit over waffles and hash browns. Someone starts a football chant, someone else joins in, and then like a tide coming in the whole length of the Waffle House is thrown into sound.

Ben hovers in the doorway, his eyes wide and his lips parted.

“What the _fuck,_ ” is all he seems able to say, and even he has to raise his booming voice to be heard over the din.

Rey, standing just inside the door, gives him a smile.

“Bar close,” she explains. Turning her gaze back to the long, yellow tiled expanse of the restaurant, Rey scans the booths lining the walls and the metal stools fixed to the floor for any sign of Finn and Poe.

Behind her, Ben enters the building, his eyes darting around like he’s not quite sure where to land.

“Hey,” Rey says, leaning her head over the nearest booth and locking eyes with a fresh-faced college boy who can’t be older than 18.

“Hey,” he says good humoredly. “Need a friend?”

Ben appears beside her, and the kid locks eyes with him.  

“Sorry, no trouble,” says the freshman. Rey glances up and finds that Ben standing there looking innocent. Just standing there intimidates this kid.

“No, no,” Rey says, smacking Ben on the arm. “Ignore him, I’m looking for Finn and Poe.”

“Who the fuck are Finn and Poe,” says another guy, leaning his drunk, ruddy face forward.

“My friends,” Rey says.

That’s enough for him, apparently, because the guy gets to his feet, his blurry eyes intent.

“Hey, you drunk fuckers,” he yells, audible even over the general tumult. “She lost her friend.”

A half a second of silence is followed by an immediate roar of dismay.

Cries of “oh no!” and “someone _do_ something” fill the air, and Rey bites down on a laugh as the sympathy of the entire restaurant lands at her feet. Two sorority girls, dressed in their pledge uniforms with _impeccable_ eye makeup, appear out of nowhere, their hands rubbing Rey’s face and telling her in firm, deeply accented voices that they’ll protect her no matter what. A football player crowd surfs a waffle in her direction.

Behind her, Ben crosses his arms, a look of naked amusement on his classic features.

And then, from the other side of the restaurant, Poe Dameron’s head rises above the sea as he stands on the top of a booth seat.

“Rey, my angel,” he bellows. “You found us!”

This prompts another round of chaos as every drunk twenty something in this seventeen by thirty-foot room begins cheering. The sorority girls hug her, lightly sobbing as they each give Rey a firm kiss on both cheeks. Two football players bump chests.

Ben leans down next to her, points to Poe, and says quietly right into her ear, “ _That_ guy is my tow truck driver?”

“Yes,” Rey says back, her face very close to his. “And-”

Finn is on his feet, pushing through the crowd with his arms outstretched. He barrels into her, his face in her neck and nearly picking her up off the ground.

“Rey,” he croons, giggling drunkenly.

And then Ben is _right there,_ muttering a low, “Do you know this guy?”’ in her ear.

Rey steps back, but in the crowded mob she ends pressed flat against Ben’s chest. Normally, this type of macho posturing would be deeply exhausting, but with Ben? With Ben it’s a prime opportunity to appreciate that those fine muscles of his cover his entire chest.

Finn looks up into Ben’s hulking, glowering face and she sees the wheels turning in his sweet, drunk brain. And then, without ever registering the fear a sober person would probably have felt looking at Ben behind her, his face splits into a wide grin.  

“Poe,” Finn calls, as across the room to Poe, “I told you Rey had a secret boyfriend!”

Several people in their immediate vicinity whoop loudly and high five, and behind her she hears Ben mutter under his breath, “Jesus _Christ.”_

“Finn,” Rey hisses- “He’s not-”

Finn, oblivious, carries on, nearly falling into Poe’s arms. “All those years of _Oh I’m too busy to date_ and the minute some brooding, dark-haired hottie waltzes into town she’s _putty_!”

Poe, eyes narrowed with considerably more sobriety, blinks at the two of them.

“I think you’re right,” he says, grinning.

And Rey admits, they do look…cozy. Ben seems to register this at the same time she does, and takes a hasty step back.

“Sorry, I wasn’t trying-” he says. And stops. “I mean, we’re not-”

“No, no,” Rey babbles, taking a step forward away from Ben’s impressive pecs. “We aren’t-”

“I mean, no offense,” Ben says, tilting his head down to her. “I’d be very lucky but-”

Poe grins. “Oh, damn it, Finn. They’re not together at all!”

Finn leans his head back and _boos_.

“This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me,” he declares.

“Y’all should _kiss,_ ” Poe announces.

“Yes, _kiss,_ ” Finn choruses, and around them someone picks up the chant, and then, like a ripple around them, the chant spreads out until the room is _shaking_ with it.

Rey looks up apologetically at Ben, who meets her gaze with a faintly chagrined expression of his own.

Over the thunder of voices, Rey says, “If we do this, we can get them out of here. Do you mind?”

His lips look soft. Kind of pillowy. She bets he tastes like mint gum. Something cool and refreshing and _other._

“I don’t mind,” he murmurs. “I wouldn’t mind at all.”

And he leans his mouth down to hers, and she stands up on the toes of her sneakers at the center of a crowd of chanting undergrads in the best Waffle House in the entire world, kissing this strange man with the broken car.

The room _explodes_ with noise, cheers and pats on the back and calls for more pancakes fill the air, but all Rey can feel is Ben’s warm, soft mouth as it moves against hers, the grip of his fingers on her waist as he lifts her up, his fine shirt crumpling as she bunches it in her tightening fist.

He pulls back, the world fizzing like fresh coca cola at the edges, and murmurs against her mouth. “You taste good.”

Her knees go wobbly and she opens her eyes to find him grinning at her, his lips parted and his cheeks pleasantly flushed. Sinking back onto her feet, she gives the room a wave and the cheer surges to fever pitch. Poe is clapping so hard she can barely see his hands moving, and Finn is doubled over in what might either be sobs or a hysterical fit of laughter.

“Right,” Rey says, a little breathless. “Come on, you maniacs. We have to get out of here.”

Poe snorts a few last laughs, his chest heaving. Around them, other people, perhaps confused or maybe just horny, have _also_ begun kissing.  Ben opens the front door, Rey grabs Finn by the hand, and Poe tumbles out after them as they emerge into the humid, aggressive heat of the Alabama night.

The voices are deafened slightly as the door shuts, but the radiant, beckoning goodwill of its golden lights spills out like a halo into the parking lot. Rey looks at Ben. He looks at her.

“Did that actually happen?” He says, his tone sort of incredulous.

Rey shrugs. “Told you they were friendly.”

* * *

 

Ten minute later and they’re all piled into Rey’s beat up Tacoma, rumbling down the dusty side road that leads to her little bungalow. It’s smack between a corn field and a rusting scrap yard, and Rey _loves_ it. Her house is one of those shotgun houses built about ten hundred years ago on the outskirts of town, with crumbling plaster walls that can’t hold shelves worth a damn and a porch that squeaks so loudly it has startled sleeping birds out of trees.

But the kitchen is open and cute, and all the windows work so she can keep a good cross breeze going. As they pull up to the front of the house, the dim gleam of her Christmas lights strung across the wide, drooping porch glint at her in a friendly way.

“Home again, home again,” she chimes, killing the engine.

They get out and Rey hops down, helping a giggling Finn fall into Poe’s arms. Ben, for his part, grabs what personal items he’d brought from his car and obligingly brings in the box of paperbacks she’d brought home from the library. Rey gives him a nod as she fumbles with the door, Finn singing a sea shanty in her ear as he hangs off Poe.

When she finally gets the door open, Poe audibly sighs with relief, dropping Finn none-too-gently on the couch and falling after him. They land in a heap, giggling drunkenly and tugging blankets over their shoulders despite the oppressive heat.

Rey walks around the room opening windows, wishing she had air conditioning. Ben stands there, his eyes roaming around her house.

“Not much,” Rey says, following his gaze. “But it’s all mine.”

“Did you make this furniture?” Ben says, walking over to the dining room table.

“Yep,” she says, beaming with pride. “I made it myself from a fallen oak down the road. It’s not quite level, but we wedge a phone book underneath and it does fine for takeout.”

Ben arches a brow. “Who’s ‘we’?”

Rey points that the giggling, sweaty mass of man on her couch.

“Me and these two idiots.”

“You guys live together?”

“No way, but they end up on my couch,” Rey says, pausing to glance over at her drunk friends, “With startling regularity.”

He shoves his hands in his pockets. “You…got a guest bedroom?”

“Oh, that,” Rey says, recovering herself. “No.”

He blinks. “You…don’t?”

“Nope, but I _do_ have a hammock out back you can have,” Rey says breezily, striding into the kitchen. “The snakes aren’t _too_ bad this time of year.”

He makes a choked noise. “Sorry?”

Rey opens her fridge, the cold air like a gift from god herself, and pulls out two ginger ales and the ice tray from the fridge.

“Well, it’s mostly just adders. Won’t kill you, and you’re a big guy,” Rey goes on, fighting back a smile as she pulls down cups from the cupboard and pours an Olympic-size pool’s worth of water into them. Followed by all the ice she has. “I think you’d be fine till the morning.”

Ben leans against the door frame, his body looking oversized and out of place in the warm, pink light of her kitchen.

“You’re mocking me,” he says, his voice flat.

Rey grins, handing him the cups. “Yes, city boy, I am. Called a sense of humor. Or don’t they have that in….”

“Atlanta.”

“Oh, so you’re not _quite_ a Yankee. Give those to the boys, will you?”

Obligingly, Ben takes the glasses from her outstretched hands. His fingers brush hers, and they feel a little warmer this time. Maybe it’s just the contrast with the icy glass, but she likes the way it feels when he touches her. It makes her feel very awake.

Ben walks the cups to the boys as Rey turns back to her cans, cracking them open with a hiss of carbonation. He returns.

“What can I do now?”

Rey turns to him. “Drink this.”

“Is that a can of ginger ale,” he says flatly. It’s not a question, really, because _obviously_ it is one.

“Drink of champions,” she informs him, walking past him and wishing, distantly, that she were alone so she could take her shirt off and parade around the house topless. One glance back at Ben, following behind her with his eyes lingering on her calves, tells her that he might not entirely mind. Though Finn would probably vomit.

Poe….Poe she’s not sure about.

Ben follows her out onto the porch, and when Rey seats herself on the porch swing with a luxurious stretch that sends a few rippling cracks up her spine, he seems to hesitate.

“Sit,” Rey says, gesturing at the big Adirondack chair.

He sits into it and seems surprised when he finds it fits him comfortably.

“My uncle makes chairs like these,” Ben says, his eyes trained on the dim distance surrounding her little house. “I forgot that until just now.”

Rey kicks her boots off, kicking her feet up on the arm rest of the swing and letting the breeze flow between her toes. Rey takes a long drag on her can, watching the lights sway softly.

“Sounds like you needed a break,” Rey says. “I think it’s a good thing your car broke.”

“You weren’t serious about that hammock thing, right?”

Rey snorts. “No. I have a guest room.”

“Thank god,” Ben chuckles. “Don’t tell anyone, but I hate snakes.”

Rey grins. “I’m not a snitch.”

“You let every straggler in a Waffle House parking lot sleep at your house?”

Rey gives him a quick look. “Just the cute ones.”

Ben starts, his expression morphing into one of shocked interest.

“Sorry, was that too forward?”

“No, not at all,” he says forcefully. “Just- just unexpected.”

“I used to be pretty shy. Then I started hanging out with Finn and Poe,” Rey admits, point back at the living room.

He seems to recover himself. “Did you all grow up around here?”

“Nah,” Rey says, taking another sip of fresh, gingery goodness. “I grew up in Jakku. Few towns over.”

Ben must hear something in her voice, because he says, “Not far enough away for your taste?”

“There’s no reason Jakku needs to exist. On a map or anywhere,” she mutters.  “I like here better. A little less…intolerant.”

“They seemed pretty…tolerant at Waffle House,” Ben says.

Rey grins at him, her mood lifting again. “That was…one of the strangest things that I’ve ever done.”

Ben barks a laugh. “Same.”

Turning her head slightly, she tugs at the hairband tying her hair back, even though she knows that in a moment it’ll be a matted, sweaty mess on her neck. But sue her, Ben’s the first cute man she’s ever really wanted to impress, and she’s always liked her hair when it’s down.

Rey leans her head back, one toe on the floor swinging her gently back and forth on the swing. For a while they’re silent, listening to the cicadas and the faint movement of the wind over the pecan trees.

“So, my car,” he begins.

Rey groans. “Oh, right. Okay, so tomorrow we’ll go back to Waffle House. I should warn you that Poe won’t do shit until he’s had breakfast, so you’ll be treated to round two of that fine establishment’s best hangover cure. And then Poe will take a look at your car and see if he can’t fix it up for you. He’s pretty good with that stuff. If we need to, he can tow it into Birmingham for you.”

“Will you come too?”

Rey adjusts her chest so that her cleavage is just slightly more prominent. “Well, I have to drive y’all, so…yes.”

Ben leans back in the chair, his eyes closed. “Good.”

Relaxed and defenseless like this, Rey inspects him in the soft glow of her patio lights. She likes the dip of his neck where it meets his broad shoulders. Likes the way his hair is just a little fucked up at the temples. Likes how his hands look draped over the edge of her chair.

“Ben,” Rey says, the condensation on her drink beading on her finger tips.

His eyes flutter open, and she can tell that he is _tired._ More than just from travel or his strange day. A kind of weariness clings to him.

“Do you want to take a shower?”

“More than almost anything in the world,” he says on an exhale.

Rey grins. “Bathroom’s just inside. Towels in the cupboard.”

Ten minutes later and she hears the groan of pipes as the ancient water system kicks in, and Rey lets herself imagine Ben naked. Not, she assures herself, in any kind of lewd way, just in an artistic sense. An abstracted sense. A firm, throbbing, sense.

Groaning, Rey leans her head back on her wooden swing and drains the last of her drink. God, she’s gone too long without hooking up. She loves her stupid town, but sometimes she wishes…

Rey trails off, her eyes staring up at the weathered porch ceiling that she’d painted herself, and imagines that she can see the stars spreading out overhead, huge and beckoning and lonely.

* * *

 

When she emerges from her thoughts, she leaves her boots on the porch and walks into the house, praying she won’t interrupt Finn and Poe doing…stuff. But, even worse, she realizes they’re gone and the door to the guest bedroom is firmly shut. Which it hadn’t been when they came home.

A faint, muffled giggle confirms her theory. Finn and Poe hadn’t, as she’d hoped, fallen asleep on the couch like a pair of drunk puppies, but installed themselves in her beautiful guest room. Trapping her with her hot stranger.

“Great,” Rey says. “This should be fun.”

The bathroom door swings open, and a sopping wet Ben Solo steps out, a towel around his hips and _nothing_ else.

“Jesus,” Rey says, shielding her eyes. “Can you give me a heads up if you’re gonna-”

“Sorry,” Ben says. “You only had one towel and it’s kind of small-”

“You’re indecent,” Rey blusters, grabbing for a blanket and throwing it at him without looking.

“I thought you liked my muscles,” he says, and when she looks at him again, the blanket is wrapped around his shoulders like a pashmina. Somehow, he makes it work.

“Yeah, but the sight of them might give me the vapors,” Rey says, coloring slightly at the grin of naked amusement in his eyes.

“I am sorry,” he concedes. “I thought you’d still be on the porch. Do you mind if I use your toothbrush?”

 _I like the way your mouth tastes as it is,_ Rey almost says. But stops, because Christ, she’s not _that_ thirsty.

“Sure, yeah,” Rey blurts. “Uh, Finn and Poe took the guest bedroom.”

Ben frowns, his gaze slipping to the narrow, tiny couch that will definitely not fit all six foot seventy of Ben Solo.

“Ah,” he says. A long pause. “Any chance you actually have a hammock?”

“You can sleep in my bed,” Rey says. “I insist. I’ll take the couch.”

“Nope,” Ben says flatly. “Ain’t happening.”

Rey’s lips twitch at the faint suggestion of an accent in his voice. So, not such a city boy after all.

“We…we could share?” Rey tries.

“The _couch?”_ Ben says, gaping at her. The towel slips slightly, exposing fractionally more of his hip.

“No, no,” Rey blurts, flustered and aroused at just the sight of this guy’s freckled pelvis. “The bed. My bed.”

He stares. “You met me an _hour_ ago.”

Rey shrugs, absolutely _certain_ that he sleeps shirtless. “I mean, it’s the hospitable thing to do.”

“Rey,” he says warily.

“And,” Rey cuts in, frowning. “There are snakes in the living room sometimes so you really shouldn’t sleep out here without a buddy.”  
Ben’s lips twitch again in that ghost of a smile. “Snakes.”

“It’s an old house,” Rey points out. “Full of things that go bump in the night.”

Ben points at the guest bedroom. “Like Finn and Poe?”

“Well. That’s not really our business.”

Ben blows out a long breath. “Well, if you _really_ don’t mind.”

“It cannot be overstated how much I don’t mind,” Rey says, her voice just above a reverent whisper as she takes in the contours of those broad shoulders.

“Then thank you,” he says, dipping his head “Should I just….?”

“Oh, right,” Rey says. “My bedroom’s right there. Make yourself comfortable.”

“Thanks, I’ll just change real quick, if you don’t mind?”

“Yeah, of course.”

As he walks into the dark shelter of her bedroom and shuts the door, a room consecrated by _no_ man in her tenure, Rey swallows hard. And runs to the bathroom to frantically shave her legs. By the time she comes out, she looks a little less like a chicken leg left out on a hot stoop for a few days, and she’s applied deodorant and perfume and even lip gloss, for reasons that she does not want to admit. Even to herself.

Knocking on her own bedroom door feels weird, but his answering, “Come in!” is friendly enough.

She stops dead in the doorway at the sight of him.

“I knew it,” she whispers, taking in the broad expanse of gleaming man in her bed. Lit by her little lamp, she can see every line of his muscles like someone has run him through Photoshop and hit _clarify_ on the region of his chest.

“What?”

Rey blushes down to the tips of her toes and ducks her head, walking purposefully to her dresser.

“Close your eyes,” she orders.

“Sure,” he says, his voice a low rumble.

Checking that he really has, she fumbles around in her dresser for something that _might_ pass as cute, but finds only her usual black sports bra and shorts combo. Feeling self-conscious, Rey quickly shimmies out of her shorts and tank top and into her pajamas, then turns to him.

“Okay, I’m decent,” she says, reaching over her neck to start braiding her hair back.

“You sleep in workout clothes?”

Rey turns around.

“What? It’s _hot,_ ” she says.

“That’s the fucking truth,” Ben mutters, shifting slightly on her bed and looking pointedly around the room. “Did make this furniture too?”

Rey glances at the familiar battered wicker dresser, the bookshelf loaded with her favorite books, the enormous, sprawling plant taking over one entire corner. In the little light of her bedside lamp, it looks cozy and comfortable, and she’s not embarrassed that it isn’t new.

“Some of it,” Rey admits, walking around to her side of the bed. Of course, usually the entire bed is her side of the bed, but, glancing up at Ben following her every move, she finds she doesn’t mind. “A lot of it is scavenged.”

“From that scrap yard?”

“From whatever comes my way,” she corrects, sliding hesitantly into bed and deciding that she is _definitely_ not wearing her invisalign tonight.

“So,” he says, watching Rey shimmy into her bed and adjust the sheets. “Lights out?”

“I mean, it is like, four in the morning,” Rey says. “It’ll be dawn soon. So this is really more of a nap.”

“Right,” he says. “I’ll…turn the light out?”

“Yes, please.”

He reaches across, pulling at the little cord and flooding the room with darkness. The silence is _ringing._ She can hear the faint sound of her windchimes blowing outside. She lays back on the pillow, hyper-conscious of the man next to her. His breathing is steady, but not deep. Not restful. Rey opens one eye to see if he’s sleeping, but finds that he’s just staring at the ceiling, his eyes wide open.

“I like your house,” he says quietly. “I like your town.”

Rey, happy enough to abandon the pretense of sleep says, “What are you doing in town?”

“Just got done with a contract.”

Rey deflates, wishing he were doing something a little more…present tense in the area.

“What…what do you do fork work?”  
Ben turns his face to her, his grin a little sly. “I’m a civil engineer.”

Rey sits bolt upright. “You’re _not._ ”

“I am. Lot of work in dams and bridges in Alabama.”

Rey’s breath stutters in her chest. “No way. I’m an engineering student.”

Ben rolls all the way onto his side, resting his face on one bicep and peering at her.

“I know you are,” he says. “You told me.”

“So? Didn’t you like it here?” Rey says, and maybe he hears the hope in her voice.

“I liked it considerably more after my car broke down,” he says, grinning.

And she likes him for saying that. Likes how he doesn’t say it quite smoothly, not suave or clever, just like he’s being honest.

Rey leans forward and presses a quick, hot kiss on his cheek. Just once. Just to see what he-

His hands brush her neck, a low sound in the back of his throat as he catches her by the chin before she can dart away. They lock eyes. It feels hot and electric where he’s touching her. A kind of intimacy.

One heartbeat later and his mouth is chasing hers, soft and hot and missing just a little so that the kiss lands at the edge of her mouth, and she’s grinning, and he’s grinning, and then they’re kissing again.

And at first, it’s kind of sweet, all clumsy hands figuring out how to reach for each other in her bed, bumping shoulders and elbows as they try to get closer.

But then, slowly, it isn’t sweet anymore, it’s something melty and hot. Smoky. Rey thinks dimly that kissing Ben reminds her of eating bacon, and then she stops thinking all together because his hands go low on her waist and pull her up on top of him, her hips slotted into his he runs his hands up the smooth skin of her back and into her hair. Her knees are gripping the sides of his chest as she leans forward, canting her head to work smoothly with his, letting her hair in its messed up braid fall like a curtain around them as his hands slide down to her ass.

She lets out a little moan when he grips her, and his grin is wide and masculine, and _very_ focused.

With one little tug he moves her so she’s just right, and then there is only the hot length of him against her, and he tastes _just_ like she hoped he would. They move like that, her on top, him panting underneath, Rey moving her hips in time with the thrusts of him against her until she knows she is soaked straight through her shorts. And in another life she might have been embarrassed by that, but in the dim light through the window she can see the look of total _hunger_ on his face, like nothing will satisfy him but her, and she forgets self-consciousness and gets lost in the physical joy of being two bodies together.

One minute she’s like that, riding a wave of elation and giddiness and desire, and the next moment she is on her back and he is pressing her into the mattress, his hands on her hips and his dick straining against his boxers as he moves with an athlete’s dedication against her. Rey lifts her head, hungry to taste the salt beading on his shoulders as Ben groans.

She fumbles with her bra, and he helps her, and they throw the thing across the room as Ben hurries to pull of his pants until he’s only wearing his boxers. He helps her with her shorts, and she lets him. She likes the way he looks her in the eyes as his thumbs dip under the material, likes the question she sees there and the look of focused, gratified pleasure when she says, “Yes.”

Then she’s kicking the shorts off, and god help her, she isn’t wearing underwear. In her heart of hearts, she believes that the gods of Waffle House are giving her a gift when they sent her Ben Solo lowering his mouth to her clit.

Rey’s back arches, her hands twine in his absurdly soft hair as she makes soft, needy noises into the darkness. She feels her sheets move underneath her, only distantly aware that she is writhing on her own mattress, gripping the head of a stranger she’s just met. Then does this _thing_ and Rey gasps, and she hears him laugh slightly, but bless him, he doesn’t stop.

Nope, he does it more. And faster. Until the edge is looming, and she can _just_ feel it about to go over her.

“Wait, wait,” Rey says, gasping. He lifts his head, his mouth _wet_.

“Hm?” he says, lazily inserting a finger into her and moving it in a slow, torturous rhythm. Rey twitches, her toes curling as he casually inserts a second.

Rey swallows, tries to gather her buzzing thoughts. “I think,” she gasps, as his fingers curl inside her. “I think we should fuck.”

His grin is syrup sweet and pleased, pleased pleased.

“Is this-”

“Don’t say Southern hospitality,” Rey pants, glowering at him as he makes _slow_ work shucking his boxers.

“Condom okay?” he says.

Rey nods. “Yeah. I’m on birth control too.”

He just grins at her, tossing his boxers across the room and towering above her. He takes a minute, drawing it out and stroking himself lazily. Rey reaches into her bedside drawer and all but throws a condom at her, and he rips it open and sheathes himself.

“How do you like it?” he asks, grinning that panther smile.

Rey sits up on her elbows to glower at him. “It is _rude_ to tease a lady.”

And with one last grin, he leans down and kisses her, the smooth length of his cock pressing against her as she tilts her hips up to meet him. Ben deepens the kiss, breathing against her mouth.

“So sweet,” he murmurs, pushing slowly into her. His voice is a strained groan. “So good.”

Rey draws out a long moan that mixes with several unimaginative curses and leans her head back. Fully inside her, Rey whimpers, feeling like she’s getting a good, satisfying stretch after weeks of an aching muscle.

“Okay?” he whispers, kissing her neck.

“Very, very okay,” she gasps, fumbling her hands along his shoulders and digging her fingers in.

He hisses, and then he starts to move.

It feels like being lifted out of her own body, fucking him. Like there’s an ocean inside her and she is adrift on it, moving purposefully towards an edge.

She can see on his face he’s not far either, and doubts very much that they’ll last long like this.

He picks up speed and she lifts her mouth to his neck, tugging at the skin hard enough to leave a mark there. If he’s going to leave, she wants him to have a souvenir to remember her.

“Rey,” he says, his voice tight.

“Yeah,” she agrees, her back arched, her face rubbing against the faint stubble on his cheek.

Ben adjusts his hips just slightly, and that’s what does her in. Her orgasm hits her so hard and so fast that her head hits the wall behind her and she barely even feels it. Ben’s hand braces against the wall as he slams into her one last time with a grunt of passionate, pent up energy that has them both gasping in a lungful of humid air.

Ben collapses on top of her, and Rey’s body feels as soft and golden as a stack of pancakes.

“Mm,” she murmurs.

“Mmm,” Ben seems to agree.

And then, just like that, they both pass the fuck out.

* * *

She wakes up to the smell of coffee and man wafting in from her door. Lifting her head, Rey glances at the time. It’s eight. She looks down at her body, realizes she’s still naked, and grins. Mentally cheering for herself, because she got thoroughly, utterly laid.

Then several new thoughts hit her.

First of all, she _definitely_ didn’t pee last night, and second of all, is he still even here? She’s not an expert, but she’s pretty sure last night was a one night stand at best. Bright, cheerful sunlight seems to congratulate her for a successful night getting dicked down by a stranger from Waffle House, and she has to fight the urge to give herself a high five. Even if he is gone.

Deciding that avoiding a UTI is the most important thing, she tugs on some clothes and hops to the bathroom.  After freshening up and throwing on a little concealer to hide the worst of her bags, she ventures into the kitchen.

He’s standing there, still in his boxers, pouring coffee into four mugs. He sees her and grins.

“Hey Rey,” he says, broad and strapping and almost completely naked. “I was thinking we should get breakfast.”

“Let me guess,” Rey says, grinning wide and round. “Waffle House.”

He hands her a mug. “You read my mind.”

* * *

 

An hour later and they are sitting in the best booth Waffle House has to offer, a _very_ hungover Poe and Finn draped over the partition like drooping house plants as Rey alternates between coffee and waffles.

“God, I was hungry,” Rey groans.

“You worked up an appetite,” Ben says mildly. “Chasing these two down last night.”

Poe opens one eye with his mug halfway to his lips.

“Y’all fucked, alright? Everyone knows it, and I, for one, wish you both the best,” he deadpans. Even hungover, a trace of his usual flair lingers.

Finn says. “I’m _never_ drinking again.”

Poe pats his hand and lifts a bite of his waffles to his mouth.

“Shh, babe, eat.”  
Rey looks across the table and feels, just for a moment, like she has pretty much everything she could ever want.

After breakfast, they head out to the parking lot to set to work on Ben’s car.

Poe has recovered his brain functionality enough to inspect it, and after about ten minutes leaning over the engine with a few tools, he straightens up and gives Ben a look.

“You’re not much of a car guy, are you?” he says. “Your battery’s just dead. Probably not used to this much humidity or something.”

“Seriously?” Ben says.

“Just needs a jump. Rey, can you-”

“On it!” Rey says, walking purposefully to her car to hide what she _knows_ is a slightly crestfallen expression.

Turning her engine on and forcing herself to focus, she has the car pulled around and the jumper cables hooked up in what feels like no time at all. It takes them only fifteen minutes, in the end, to fix Ben’s problem, and as his car roars to life, she feels her spirits sink a little.  

He’s leaving. One of the most fun nights of her life, and she’s just now realizing that it’s over. This guy who made her laugh and got her career and kissed her in a Waffle House was leaving. Rey smiles the lump in her throat down.

Jumping down from her car, she stands with Finn and Poe as Ben experimentally revs his engine. Leaning out the window, he says, “Just like new!”

Rey tries for a smile, but she’s pretty sure it looks like a grimace.

Ben pulls his car around, his window down and his face turned towards them.

“Hey, thank you guys so much,” he says, his face serious. “This was…probably the most fun I’ve had in several years.”

Poe waves. “Come back sometime!”

“You know where to find us,” Finn says, elbowing Poe in the ribs.

Rey clears her throat when Ben’s gaze flits to her. “See you around, maybe? And good luck…being a civil engineer,” she says, utterly failing to keep the note of longing out of her voice.

He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but closes it.

Finally, he says, “I think you’re… you’re really something, Rey.”

They never even told each other their last names, she realizes.

And then, with a rending roar of engine in the morning light, he accelerates towards the highway. She follows that sleek, black, idiotic car as it rolls down the road, until it’s just a haze of dirt kicked up in the air.

* * *

 

Three weeks later and Rey is pretty sure she’s over it. She and Poe had met Finn at Kanata’s Bar on Saturday, and they’d played pool and cracked wise about work and relationships and anything they could think of for almost three hours before they made their inevitable way to Waffle House. She tries not to think about him and his stupid shoulders and his kisses and the way he’d made her coffee just right that morning without even knowing how.

Of course she fails, but in the buffeting crowd of drunk, laughing humanity, Rey loses herself in the pleasures of a waffle twice the size of her face and tops it with enough maple syrup to drown the memory of Ben’s mouth on hers.

Poe and Finn are making moon eyes at each other and Rey is well on her way to feeling well and truly sorry for herself when she hears it.

“Hey you drunk fuckers,” booms a rich, honey-smooth voice from the door. “I lost my girl.”

She sits bolt upright, as the crowd begins to lament the loss en masse. And then she’s on her feet, standing on the booth just as the chanting starts. Across the room, standing head and shoulders above the crowd with a bouquet of grocery store flowers in his hand stands Ben, grinning at her. He’s wearing a much more sensible t-shirt and a baseball cap, which he takes off when he sees her, his big shoulders raising in an easy shrug.

“Found her,” he calls. Every one cheers.

She leaps down, and the sea of bodies part as a chant of _kiss, kiss, kiss_ kicks up from across the room.

And then she’s in his arms, and he’s pressing her up and in to his chest, and her mouth is on his and she is kissing Ben again.

“You’re back,” she breathes, her face right next to his and his hair brushing her temples.

“I made a strong case back at the home office for the economic potential of Alabama, and it looks like,” he says, brushing his hand across her face, “We’re gonna be opening an office here.”

Rey gasps. “No you’re not.”

“So I just came back to ask,” he says, “if you knew any engineers who might be looking for a job?”

Rey kisses him, hard and sweet and long, and the room around them might be exploding with noise and good cheer, or maybe not, because she doesn’t care.

“Can you come to my place tonight?” Rey says, pulling away.

Ben reaches into his pocket. “I can drive us, even. I got a _truck._ ”

Rey beams.

He says, “I should warn you, there’s a good chance I might never leave.”

“It’s good you said that,” Rey says, grinning. “Because I’ve recently decided that one-night stands are not my thing.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to have you join me on [my Tumblr!](https://violetwilson.tumblr.com/) or [on my Twitter,](https://twitter.com/ViWiWrites) which is where I'm most active these days. 
> 
> I also write other stories which are not about pancakes, if that's your thing. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated if you're enjoying my work and want to help me out! It's the only way I get paid ;D


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